


The Wizard in the Tower

by SunflowerRose22



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: A "What if the Wood's threat wasn't there?" AU, F/M, Fluff, My favorite sort: Sarkan is lonely, Pining, So everything is mostly the same, except for the bits that aren't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22033366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerRose22/pseuds/SunflowerRose22
Summary: There's a wizard in the decrepit Tower and Agnieszka is dead set on bringing him out and into the world if it's the last thing she does.
Relationships: Agnieszka & The Dragon | Sarkan, Agnieszka/The Dragon | Sarkan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 80





	The Wizard in the Tower

“I think this is your worst idea yet,” Kasia said to Agnieszka as she leaned against the base of the Dragon’s doorless tower. The bright summer sun hung overhead, making the marble of the walls glow. Agnieszka had to squint against the glare as she tightened the knot of the grappling hook. Still, she was grinning.

“Relax,” she said, “what’s the worst that could happen?” She swung the hook around a few times for emphasis. The rope slipped from her grasp and Kasia ducked just as the hook hit the space where her head had been, clattering against the stone. They both looked up simultaneously at the window high above their heads, holding their breaths and listening for any sort of stomping around. When no wizard reared his head out the window, Agnieszka loosely rewound the rope. “I’ve been practicing,” she whispered in protest. Kasia’s brow furrowed further. 

“I think a tower window is a far cry from tree branches.” Kasia shielded her eyes as she peered up at the lowest window of the abode—the window that led into the wizard’s library, judging by how many books he’s thrown at Agnieszka’s head in the past couple of months.

“Then you haven’t gone deep enough into the Wood,” Agnieszka joked, knowing how much Kasia hated the dense undergrowth and the creatures that brushed their tendrils against her cheek. “Besides, you won’t know until you try.”

“Normally I’d agree, if your goal was something worthwhile.” Kasia’s voice fell away as Agnieszka threw the hook. It sailed high above their heads and straight into the low window. A short cry followed its arrival, along with the all too familiar shattering of a teacup. Agnieszka paled. Kasia urgently tugged on her sleeve but Agnieszka remained where she was with a sheepish smile as the Dragon leered out over the edge of the window. 

“Funny to see you here,” Agnieszka called up conversationally. The Dragon drummed his fingers against the stone sill. If looks could kill. “I didn’t think you took tea this late in the day,” she added. She had come earlier in the month than she normally would have, before the full moon, rather hoping to catch him off guard and be in before he noticed.

“My mistake,” he called out dryly. “I hadn’t expected anyone to come barreling in. Yet.” Despite her disappointment on being foiled again, Agnieszka beamed. The Dragon’s scowl deepened. He held up her grappling hook. “Looking for something?”

“Now however did that get up there?” Agnieszka asked with an overly dramatic gasp. She looked to Kasia for assistance and found her friend pretending to inspect the nearby plant life. Agnieszka verbally stalled. “My finger must have slipped. A clumsy mishap, perhaps.” 

“These clumsy mishaps seem to be occurring more and more frequently,” the Dragon said sharply. 

“Surely a lord like yourself would be so gracious to—”

“To dispose of this for you?” The Dragon took a hold of the rope and steam curled from his clenched fist. “Why certainly, fair maiden.” His words dripped with sarcasm as the rope combusted. Agnieszka dropped her end at once, ashes coating her hands. She dusted them off on her apron with half a mind to tell him he didn’t have to be so rude. But then she thought she saw the rare flicker of an amused smirk.

“Well, there goes that,” Kasia said as the wizard disappeared back inside, with grappling hook and all. But Agnieszka was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

“I’ll get him to come down,” she said, “just you wait and see.” 

#

In the dead of a late summer night Agnieszka limped towards the ebbing fire that marked the beginning of the harvest. She stayed out of the light, avoiding the mingling villagers of Dvernik as she searched for Kasia. She caught a glimpse of her friend at one of the tables near the edge of the square. But Kasia wasn’t alone. She was with the blacksmith’s eldest son, listening to what was probably another one of his tall tales. It wasn’t strange to see the blacksmith’s son trying to saddle up with Kasia, as he and his two younger brothers had been vying for her hand for a while now. But she was surprised to see Kasia reciprocating his interest, leaning in and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked as if she enjoyed hearing the same story for the hundredth time. 

Agnieszka took a deep breath, though it sent stabs of pain through her ribs, and stood as tall as she could manage before strutting across the village green to them. The blacksmith’s boy fell silent, his eyes widening. No doubt he was gawking at her stained dress and the numerous scratches up and down her arms. Agnieszka nodded in greeting and said, “You don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” 

Kasia turned at her voice. The delight on her face quickly turned to horror as she stood and rushed to take Agnieszka’s arm. Agnieszka failed to conceal her wince as she did so. “What happened?” Kasia asked, hushed, before remembering her company. “Please excuse us, you don’t mind, do you?” Before the blacksmith’s eldest son could say otherwise, Kasia dipped her head and said, “Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow?” before carting Agnieszka away. Only when they were out of the fire’s light and steering down the dimly lit road did Kasia slow and ask again in a low whisper, “What did you do?” 

“I fell out of a tree,” Agnieszka said. Kasia stopped for a moment, breathing Agnieszka’s name, but she kept moving forward. Kasia’s home was only a few houses away, after all, just around the bend of the dry stack stone wall. Besides, Agnieszka felt if she stopped she might fall to her knees. 

They came around to the back of Kasia’s home, through the side garden. A candle stood in the rear window. Agnieszka stalled by the door. “Is your mother home?” she asked. 

“She should be asleep by now,” Kasia said, nudging the door open. Agnieszka pulled her back and started to protest. “Would you rather go to your mother’s?” Kasia snapped. When Agnieszka didn’t say anything, Kasia pulled her inside and ushered her onto a stool by the stove. Despite the warmth from the banked fire, the chill of autumn’s rain failed to leave Agnieszka. She kept fidgeting at the smallest creaks, waiting for Kasia’s mother to pop up in the doorway. She had a right to be concerned—their mothers would faint at seeing Agnieszka in such a state. Mud and tears and leaves they’ve seen before, but the gashes on Agnieszka’s palms and arms and the way Agnieszka clutched at her chest with labored breaths was another matter entirely. And that didn’t include the number of bruises Agnieszka felt up and down her back. Maybe her mother tolerated the frequent disappearances, if only so she could sigh and coddle over her only daughter when she came back, but this—this guaranteed she was going to be confided in her room until she was shackled in wedlock. 

“I should have known,” Kasia said while rummaging through the cupboards for her sewing basket. The one where she kept her bandages. “When you didn’t return by nightfall, I should have thought something was wrong.”

“To be fair I’ve been absent pretty frequently, even from you.” Agnieszka bit her lip as Kasia unpinned and peeled off her muddy short gown and the once white neckerchief. Her friend winced at the sight of Agnieszka’s shift. The large splotches of blood on her sleeve had already dried and turned a moldy brown.

“Oh, Nieshka,” Kasia breathed.

“It’s not that bad,” Agnieszka said. Then she gritted her teeth as Kasia tried to gently peel back and roll up her sleeve. Fresh blood welled from the gash. “Okay, it’s pretty bad. But I think it’s the worst of my injuries.” 

“Where else are you hurt?” her friend asked as she dabbed a damp cloth against the wound. “When did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I think I hit a few branches on the way down and fell into a patch of brambles. By the time I came to, the sun was under the trees and I was coated in mud.” Kasia lips pressed thin. “At least it wasn’t for nothing,” Agnieszka continued encouragingly. “I’ve been experimenting with this sap mixture that’s pretty adhesive and I’m thinking of officially trying it out tomorrow.” 

“So soon after falling?”

“It might harden if I wait too long. And it's the first scheme I’ve had in a while that might actually work. I mean, the Dragon might be mortified if I coat his sparkling white walls with gooey sap but I can’t see how he can foil this one before I reach the sill.”

“He could shove you out the window if you don’t fall first,” Kasia said in a low whisper, grabbing Agnieszka’s chin to press the rag to her cheek.

“He’s never done anything to harm me before.”

“So he doesn’t want the hassle of having his tower sieged by revenge seeking villagers. By me. But you don’t know him, Agnieszka. You may think you do just cause you got him to laugh once but you don’t. You don’t know what’s in his tower or what he’ll do to you once he has you at his mercy.”

Agnieszka turned her head out of Kasia’s grip. “Neither do you,” she muttered. 

“At least I’m not killing myself over curiosity.” Kasia pulled a thin roll of bandages from under spools of thread and dressed her arm.

“It’s not curiosity. It’s because—” Agnieszka couldn’t begin to express the overwhelming loneliness she felt whenever she looked at the tower. It was always in the back of her mind, had been since she was a child. As she grew older she came to realize the feelings weren’t her own, but a sadness that leaked like a sigh from the formidable marble walls into the soil of the valley. “Don’t you think it’s rather lonely?” she asked. “To encase yourself in walls, only ever seeing the world through a window? To be left wondering how the world is going on without you?”

“Evidently the world was of no interest to him and we all feel likewise about him,” Kasia said, tightening the knot. “Besides, it’s not like he’s been there forever. He’s probably seen it all. I say if he wants to stay in a creaky tower till the vines creep through the floorboards then by all means.” 

Agnieszka remained silent, her head turned. Kasia never really did understand. “If I was in a tower, wouldn’t you rescue me?”

“That implies you were taken against your will. No one forced him into the tower as far as I’m aware. He can leave anytime he wants. He simply chooses not to.” Kasia tucked the empty roll of bandages into her pocket bag and rose to put the basket away.

“But what if he’s forgotten how?”

“Regardless, he’s not going anywhere anytime soon, whether you go tomorrow or next week.” 

“But I always go on a full moon, whether I have anything or not.”

“You’re in no state to ride a horse, let alone walk.”

“I’m fine, really.” Agnieszka tried rotating her arm but bent over as her ribs ached. She hesitated. “He’ll be disheartened if I don’t show up.”

“Agnieszka, he doesn’t care. If he’s waiting by the window for you to come, it's because he’s apprehensive you’ll get blood on the marble or worse, take a chunk of rock with you as you fall.” 

“Why are you acting like this?” Agnieszka asked, standing and gathering her shortgown. “You’re such a naysayer now-a-days.”

“Because you’ve frightened me,” Kasia said, voice rising. She abruptly stopped. They both fell silent, listening. The bed creaked once in the adjacent room then remained still. Kasia tucked her hands against her apron. “Don’t go tonight,” she pleaded. “Give it a day or two and if you insist on going after, then I’ll come with you. Please?”

Agnieszka made a show of sighing in reluctance before nodding. Kasia’s face flushed with relief, making her twinge with guilt. Her friend helped her dress and Agnieszka no longer hid her wince as she eased her arms through the shortgown. 

“You’ve changed,” Agnieszka whispered accusatively. Kasia laughed softly as she re-pinned the wool bodice. 

“We’re getting old. The years will catch up to us before we know it and then what will we do? Sit by the fire with goats strolling through the kitchen?” 

“You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“And there’s my Nieshka. Whatever would I do without you and your rebellious inclinations?”

“Be miserable at best, married at worst?”

Kasia smiled as she tucked in Agnieszka’s neckerchief. “Let me walk you home,” she insisted.

Agnieszka shook her head, idling with a stray coil of her hair. “I can manage, thank you.”

Though Kasia looked unconvinced she trailed behind Agnieszka to the doorway. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

Agnieszka squeezed her hand before letting their fingers slip. She looked back at her friend once, who raised the candle to watch Agnieszka go down the road. She waved her hand as reassurance. Kasia inclined her head. And Agnieszka did walk to her house. Only she didn’t stop. She continued down the dirt road past the scattered houses and walked towards the farms to the north to see about borrowing a horse. 

#

The first time Agnieszka tried to climb the Dragon’s tower, he was mortified. It was as if no one had thought to try before. She had been barely fourteen then, jeered on by her brothers to scamper up the thick vines that had grown over the decades. Before she was even a foot off the ground, the sky around them darkened and the stones trembled, bleeding shadows that curled around Agnieszka. Her brothers fled and Agnieszka scrambled down after them. But on the wagon ride home she came to realize she didn't have a single scratch on her. 

The second try was similar to the first, though this time Agnieszka was alone and seventeen. She’d managed to climb more than halfway to the first window when the skies darkened and the tower shook. Agnieszka clung to the vines with her heart in her throat, certain this time she’d done it. But after what felt like hours the chaos ebbed and she looked up to see a very annoyed wizard leaning out of his window. She remembered being startled at how young he looked, having always thought the wizard to be some crotchety old man with a beard longer than she was tall and full of cobwebs. She was so startled that she didn’t realize he had commanded the vines to bend over themselves until her feet were safely back on the ground. But she did grin at him then, to which he scoffed.

The Dragon had removed the vines after that. Not that that had ever stopped her from trying. At first she’d been spurred on by the challenge of the feat. But then as the loneliness that initially clouded the tower faded into a dull ache, she began to realize more about the wizard within. That much to his own surprise and possible irritation, he didn’t mind her attempted break-ins. In fact, she rather felt he looked forward to them. So the thrill of the game turned into a fierce desire to break into the wizard’s tower and save him from his own imprisonment. And no injury was going to stop her. 

Agnieszka’s muscles sung in fits of tremors as Agnieszka tied the open jar of sap to her waist. Though she had made good time riding through the night to the tower, she had developed new aches in her legs. Her ribs were worse than before, throbbing with every breath. 

The tower was quieter than usual as mist curled around its walls; the sun had barely raised high enough over the mountains to burn it away. A soft melancholy throbbed from the stone, pulling at Agnieszka’s heart. No doubt the Dragon was lost in sleep, his sorrow muffled by dreams. She was late, after all. With a deep breath, she coated one of the gloves she’d tied on her hands with sap and slapped it against the wall as high as she could reach. Her muscles groaned as she pulled herself up, boots scraping to find purchase on the smooth marble. Veins of green sparked within the stone, ricocheting up the wall faster than she could blink. Now he knew she was here. Droplets of sap dripped onto her rolled up sleeves and splattered on the grass as Agnieszka coated her second glove in sap. She swung herself up, skidding briefly along the wall before the sap took hold. She hissed at the throb in her shoulder. Still, she continued to climb, leaving yellow sap residue and tufts of leather beneath her. 

The going was slower than she liked as the rising sun warmed her back. She was barely a fourth up the wall and her back was already spasming. But though she felt the frightening tingle in her toes as her boots slipped, she held tight and wished with all her might for the sap to hold. And she imagined the wizard’s warm smile as they sat alongside the Spindle’s bank, hands sticky with raspberries. Of his uncertain laughter as he struggled to hold a newborn calf. The world she was going to show him, if only he got out of this stupid tower. Agnieszka climbed farther from the gravel path and the wispy brambles below as a strange exhilaration soothed her aches. She was going to do it. She was really going to do it. 

Agnieszka’s glove slipped and she scrambled for purchase. She flattened herself against the wall, the stone cool against her cheek. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her arms were shaking. She was frightened, certainly. Her entire body was aware of the wind that rolled over her. Falling from a tree was easy—she had branches and thistles to break her fall. There was nothing beneath her now. 

Her hands were damp, slipping inside the gloves. She couldn’t think like that. She shouldn’t dare tempt fate. After all, she was nearly halfway to the window and it was far too late to climb back down now. But her arms told her otherwise, the way they shook, and her heart threatened to break out of her chest. Agnieszka looked down, the sheer height of the drop making her dizzy. She felt the sap begin to peel off the stone. 

A muffled shout came from above, the words stolen by the wind. Agnieszka looked up to see the wizard leaning over the ledge of the window. He held his dressing robe shut, his disheveled hair tossed by the wind. His face held utter disbelief and it was all he could do to stare. Agnieszka tried to grin, which made his brow furrow. He shouted at her, though she couldn’t make out a thing he said. She swung up another arm and her footing slipped. He stopped, panicked, before he made a gesture that clearly meant, “Stay right there.” He disappeared into the tower.

Agnieszka pressed her heated face against the stone, sucking in breaths. The wind tugged at her braid, unraveling it. Her legs shook and her knees were bruised from hitting the wall. But she was so close. And no doubt the wizard was only going to put her back on the ground. Grimacing, Agnieszka pulled loose and swung the other hand up. Mid swing, her lower hand lost purchase completely. Her scream caught in her throat as she skidded down the stone before she stopped, her hand barely catching the wall. Her shoulder jerked out with a pop. Her head hit the wall, the sky erupting into light. She could barely hear her own gasp over her ringing ears as her hand slipped out of the glove and she fell.

#

Agnieszka awoke to warm hands brushing back her hair. Though the very core of her body ached, she felt secure surrounded by the lingering scent of herbs and strange spices. Magic hummed around her, whispers not too unlike the Wood. She found herself humming along, leaning into the hands. But then they pulled away, the magic receding, and she came to in a cozy room lined with books. She was inside the Dragon’s tower, laying on a lounge chair, and her mouth tasted of rotting fish.

“Of all the idiotic ideas,” the wizard muttered, corking a bottle of golden syrup as she gagged. He slumped in the chair he’d pulled alongside her, looking particularly drained. He looked rather fine in his under clothing, from the rolled up sleeves of his silk shirt to his clean shaven face to the dark locks of his hair—hair she noted was still tousled, with stray strands falling across his brow. He shoved them back impatiently as he sat up and looked her dead in the eye. “Do you usually make a point of killing yourself over passing whims? Or did somebody send you?” When she didn’t answer, still suppressing her cough, he said, “Surely the Magnati would have sent someone more accomplished if they wanted to drag me back to the capital, and not some dimwitted apprentice.” 

Agnieszka failed to follow his musings. She was still trying to process that she was here, that she had actually made it into the tower. She stood, trying to take in the high ceiling and the towers of bookcases. Though it was easier to breathe, her legs wobbled and the Dragon had to grab her by the arm to keep her from falling. Whether it was exhaustion or thrill that made her lightheaded and giddish, she couldn’t begin to say. She fell into fits of giggles, spilling into his arms and watching the color rise in his sun-starved skin. She cupped his face and his breath left him.

“You won’t be alone anymore,” she promised. “I’m here now.”

He made a strained noise, something between a sharp intake and a scoff. He eased her back onto the lounge chair before gathering the bottle and bandages on the nearby table. “Your clothes are there,” he said, nodding to the skirts and petticoats on the floor. For the first time Agnieszka realized she was only in her shift, cleaner than before and without a tear along the hem. “The moment I deem you fit to walk home, I’m taking you to the base of the tower. It should only take a couple minutes or so, for the vertigo to wear off. Until then, stay where you are.” Before he left the room he hissed, “And don’t touch anything. I’ll know if you do.”

Agnieszka listened until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she curled her knees to her chest; her initial triumph had drained and left the dregs of worry behind. Though she hadn’t expected a warm welcome, she had rather thought to prolong her leaving with a spot of tea. Well, she thought, turning her head towards the window, she did technically break into his home. She should be thankful he bothered to heal her. But the more she thought the more she felt this fear that if she left now, she might never have a chance to come back. He might well barricade the windows for all she knew, or surround his tower with walls of thorny thickets. Not that any of that would stop her, if she really put her mind to it, but it would be enough to make her doubt whether he liked her company.

The chair beside her creaked and she jumped in fright—she hadn’t heard him come back into the room. He gave her a withering look and handed her a gilded teacup filled with water. Agnieszka traced the rim of the cup. “So you’re going to chase me out,” she said, resigned.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t. For all I know, you could be trying to kill me.” When she looked at him with serious doubt, he said, “Yes, you’ve clearly proven yourself incapable of basic strategic thinking. But an assassination is an assassination, whether you do it well or not.”

“I’ve been a rather determined assassin then, if I’ve been going after you since I was fourteen.”

He impatiently waved his hand. “So you’re a thief. Or a spy.”

“Still trying after the first handful of failures? I think not.”

“I never said you were competent.” A smile flickered across his lips before he smothered it with another scowl. “Regardless, I don’t know your true intentions.”

“Well you must have some idea that I mean you no harm, otherwise you wouldn’t have healed me.”

“Maybe I’m simply waiting to see what you’ll do next.” 

Neither of them really believed that and she knew it. And she noted with interest that he wasn’t trying to hurry her along. In fact, she rather felt he was purposefully lingering, soaking in her company. She smiled into her cup and he did his best to ignore her until she leaned back in the chair. “So tell me, who is the Dragon?”

He grimaced, turning to stare out the window. “At the moment, no one important.” 

“But you used to be someone, didn’t you? A lord of Kralia? I’m certain I’ve heard a story or two about the Dragon, the most powerful wizard in Polnya.”

“And you believe the frivolous nonsense the bards spew?”

“There’s some truth to them, isn’t there?” He didn’t answer and wouldn’t look at her. “If you are who I think you are, then why are you here fading into obscurity?”

“It makes no difference to me whether I’m here or at the court.” 

“But something must have changed, or you wouldn’t have come here in the first place.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, brows furrowing. She put her hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away. “I lost something the week before I left,” he said, carefully. “Something I had been so confident I had. And it made me realize I wasn’t what I thought I was. But,” he said, shaking off her hand and rubbing the back of his neck, “that was a hundred years ago. A lot has changed since then.”

“But you still haven’t gone back,” she whispered, full of his unspoken sorrow.

“No,” he agreed, dropping his hand, “I haven’t.”

Agnieszka twisted her fingers into knots. “I meant it when I said you don’t have to be alone anymore.” The words were rushing out of her, stealing her breath. “I want to get to know you and be your friend, whatever that may look like.” It felt juvenile now, her latent fantasies that fresh air and sunshine would cure him of his pain. She hadn’t thought there was some deeper sorrow in him that she couldn’t uproot.

She stared at her hands, miserable, until he said, “I suppose I wouldn’t be outright opposed to the company.” When she lifted her head, not quite believing what she heard was right, he cleared his throat and said, “Someone ought to teach you magic anyway and I don’t see any other witches or wizards around to do it.”

“Pardon?” she asked, too pleased to properly answer. He gave her a skeptical look. But before he could repeat himself, a grappling hook sailed through the window. It knocked against the table, upsetting the teacup Agnieszka had set there and spilling it across the floor. The Dragon swore as Agnieszka ran to the window and stuck her head out. “Kasia,” she exclaimed. Her friend stood at the base of the tower with her brothers. They were holding axes and looking particularly menacing as they flexed them. Kasia shielded her eyes, peering up towards the window. Agnieszka waved again as she called, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right down.” She skirted around the Dragon towards the door. Her foot caught the edge of the carpet and she tripped, tumbling over herself. Hissing in pain, she struggled to sit up. As she did, her ankle throbbed. “I think I twisted it,” she said as the Dragon appeared by her side. 

“How have you managed to live this long?” he asked. He took a knee and scooped her up into his arms, much to her surprise. She wound her arms around his neck, more conscious than ever of his warmth and the heat that rose in her.

“I’m surprised you can carry me,” she joked, trying to ignore how flustered she felt. “Mother always said I was all limbs.” 

He stared at the far wall, jaw feathering. “Don’t mention it,” he said before stepping into the air, out of the tower, and onto the grass below before Agnieszka could blink. Her brothers flinched back as they appeared. They collectively gasped. Kasia stopped dead in her tracks before she could bolt to Agnieszka, flabbergasted. 

It was then Agnieszka remembered she was still only wearing a shift. The Dragon must have realized it too, as well as the glaringly obvious insinuations. He dropped her with haste. “You impossible creature, you,” he said, faltering over his words. He was very red in the face, flitting between disbelief and anger. “Don’t ever come back,” he hissed before stepping back into his tower before her brothers could make good use of their axes. Agnieszka fell into a fit of laughter, clutching at her stomach as Kasia took her by the shoulders. 

“Did he?” her friend asked. “Did you?” Agnieszka shook her head. “What happened?”

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” Agnieszka managed to say. They both jumped as a hand appeared and the Dragon flung the remainder of her clothes onto the ground before disappearing again. Agnieszka fell to the mud, sick with laughter as the tower shook indignantly. Only when her fits began to subside did one of her brothers step forward and ask, “Are you going to marry him now or what?”

“I’m certainly thinking about it,” Agnieszka said. 

#

The last trace of the full moon stood defiantly against the rising rays of the sun as Agnieszka trekked up the slope to the tower. A basket hung on her arm with pastries she snuck out of her mother’s kitchen. Kasia and Agnieszka’s brothers had made good on their promise not to tell her mother about her affair with the wizard, all the while remaining unconvinced nothing physical had happened between them, despite how much Agnieszka swore it was the truth. But Kasia often said to her, “Well, if you’re happy,” and left it at that. And her brothers kept their eyes to the ground on the walks to church, jostling each other as their mother asked Agnieszka when she was finally going to settle down. It was all she could do not to kick her youngest brother in the shin as he said, “Believe me, she’s trying.”

The tower was the same as it always was, with its uncracked white walls and the same traces of sorrow that clung to them. There were no barbed vines or illusions to speak of. And there still wasn’t a door. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel uneasy; what if he didn’t want her to come back? What if he decided she was too much of a nuisance and barricaded himself in again? She’d be back at square one, except she didn’t think she had it in her to try again. 

Agnieszka peered up the tower to the lowest window and rested her hand against the smooth, cool marble. The veins lit up under her touch, sparking before racing up the wall. She waited, listening for a sign—the sound of footsteps, a whisper of magic, and exaggerated sigh. A door appeared under her hand instead. Grinning, she pushed it open and entered the Dragon’s Tower. 

**Author's Note:**

> “Bad Idea” from the musical Waitress is such an Aggie and Sarkan mood. I just love their love because they’re so hopeless and cozy. This story was written to explore further how Uprooted played on the “maiden trapped in the tower” trope, except it’s Sarkan trapped in his own isolation and sense of duty and how Aggie, in a way, frees him from the Tower. By removing the threat of the Wood, I could explore Sarkan’s other motivation for sealing himself into the Tower—his embarrassment and (what I interpreted as) his broken heart over what happened with Countess Ludmila. I could also make Aggie more carefree as I felt without the threat of the Wood, as well as the threat that Kasia would be taken away from her, she’d grow up headstrong and rather free spirited—what you sort of see at the end of the book, minus the temperament of her trauma and wisdom. 
> 
> As an additional note, Evermore from the live action Beauty and the Beast if my top Sarkan mood song, specifically sung by Josh Groban. It's been my uncontested opinion for the last two years ever since I first read the book. That being said, what are your Uprooted mood songs? I would love to listen to them.


End file.
